A Tale That Didn’t Wag Page 2
By Anthony Douglas Gere
Now as I was saying before, I was on my way out of the records store, holding a
recycled paper bag with the New Natasha Bendington album, The old Soft Cell
album with Tainted Love and a few local unknown artist, and within seconds, was
saying hello to four pieces of steel. That’s right, as I walked out of the store; I was
literally looking down the barrel of four handguns held by four different people without
out a smile on their faces. One of the guns was waving or moving slightly, and my
eyes were following that one particularly, like it was hypnotizing me. Now the
courteous people giving me this view from afar, was none other than Berkeley’s
finest. That’s right, the pigs, cops, Jake, Johnnie law. These wonderful people that
are here to serve and protect, were introducing themselves to me for the first time,
in this fine fashion. Instead of helping an old lady across the street or eating
donuts, they had me laying down on the ground in front onlookers, drug dealers,
street vendors and college students in broad daylight. And to top it all off, they
were screaming at me so loud, that I could make out what I was suppose to be
doing, what I had done and what I was suppose to do next. This scene seriously
reminded me of Basic Training in the military, as this one officer made my four
foot nothing Drill Instructor, sound like an usher at a movie theater. Here I am,
this six foot five inch, young black urban professional in a fine tailored suit, lying
on the ground and now measuring in at a foot and a half on the piss and
cigarette infested concrete, wanting to smoke and piss on myself for reasons I
had no clue of. I’m so mentally and emotionally fucked right at this moment,
that I’m wondering if I forgot to pay for my music, and this is some new type of
security I needed in one of my buildings that just came out. Now the strange
thing on how I got on the ground, is that I don’t remember bending down. You
see some may and can strongly argue, that I have a problem with authority,
which is why some say I have worked for myself for over 90% of my adult life.
But I say different, because I’ve taken instructions from teachers, professors,
drill instructors, mentors and my parents, so I don’t have a problem doing
what I am told. But I don’t remember kissing the pavement so to speak, but
only know I was down there doing so, when I noticed and was smelling a
piece of bubble gum, with tread marks of many shoes upon it. This also
isn’t the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at me. Many don’t know that in my
stubbornness and ignorance to the obvious sometimes, I will and have no
problem dieing for what I stand for and believe in. But boy oh boy, this was
different! This event seemed larger than life, and definitely larger than me.
So all I could do for the moment, is pray for another moment to happen, and
not hear the sound of the hammer on the pistols following me, hit the
mechanism that propels a piece of lead, smaller than a quarter. Yeah, I felt
like a dog with his tail between his legs.
As I felt a person’s foot, spread my already open legs even farther apart, and
demand for me to not move, even though there are still three guns aimed at my
freshly shaven head and torso, things are starting to come back to me. This
has gone way beyond feeling intruded or abused, I was becoming angry, and
knew I had done nothing to warrant such behavior.
By Anthony Douglas Gere
Now as I was saying before, I was on my way out of the records store, holding a
recycled paper bag with the New Natasha Bendington album, The old Soft Cell
album with Tainted Love and a few local unknown artist, and within seconds, was
saying hello to four pieces of steel. That’s right, as I walked out of the store; I was
literally looking down the barrel of four handguns held by four different people without
out a smile on their faces. One of the guns was waving or moving slightly, and my
eyes were following that one particularly, like it was hypnotizing me. Now the
courteous people giving me this view from afar, was none other than Berkeley’s
finest. That’s right, the pigs, cops, Jake, Johnnie law. These wonderful people that
are here to serve and protect, were introducing themselves to me for the first time,
in this fine fashion. Instead of helping an old lady across the street or eating
donuts, they had me laying down on the ground in front onlookers, drug dealers,
street vendors and college students in broad daylight. And to top it all off, they
were screaming at me so loud, that I could make out what I was suppose to be
doing, what I had done and what I was suppose to do next. This scene seriously
reminded me of Basic Training in the military, as this one officer made my four
foot nothing Drill Instructor, sound like an usher at a movie theater. Here I am,
this six foot five inch, young black urban professional in a fine tailored suit, lying
on the ground and now measuring in at a foot and a half on the piss and
cigarette infested concrete, wanting to smoke and piss on myself for reasons I
had no clue of. I’m so mentally and emotionally fucked right at this moment,
that I’m wondering if I forgot to pay for my music, and this is some new type of
security I needed in one of my buildings that just came out. Now the strange
thing on how I got on the ground, is that I don’t remember bending down. You
see some may and can strongly argue, that I have a problem with authority,
which is why some say I have worked for myself for over 90% of my adult life.
But I say different, because I’ve taken instructions from teachers, professors,
drill instructors, mentors and my parents, so I don’t have a problem doing
what I am told. But I don’t remember kissing the pavement so to speak, but
only know I was down there doing so, when I noticed and was smelling a
piece of bubble gum, with tread marks of many shoes upon it. This also
isn’t the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at me. Many don’t know that in my
stubbornness and ignorance to the obvious sometimes, I will and have no
problem dieing for what I stand for and believe in. But boy oh boy, this was
different! This event seemed larger than life, and definitely larger than me.
So all I could do for the moment, is pray for another moment to happen, and
not hear the sound of the hammer on the pistols following me, hit the
mechanism that propels a piece of lead, smaller than a quarter. Yeah, I felt
like a dog with his tail between his legs.
As I felt a person’s foot, spread my already open legs even farther apart, and
demand for me to not move, even though there are still three guns aimed at my
freshly shaven head and torso, things are starting to come back to me. This
has gone way beyond feeling intruded or abused, I was becoming angry, and
knew I had done nothing to warrant such behavior.